David McLansky

Freshman - 899 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

Land Of Shinar - Poem by David McLansky

'Out of the Land of South Shinar....
Rises a jewel amid the stars....
In Cassiopeia's constellation, ....
The Queen and Goddess of Our Nation; '....
The scribe in charge of court records....
Pauses here, in thought absorbed, ....
Should he report her lowly birth? ....
Here he patted his ample girth; ....
'Our hunter King, the fierce Nimrod, ....
Who we worship as a God, ....
Met her in an Erech brothel; '....
He reread this phrase, it sounded awful; ....
The Royal Scribe rereads the text, ....
Puts down his reed and then reflects....
The outcome of the fight between....
Our living God and his Queen....
Is by all means still uncertain....
He checked his clay and then the curtain; ....
Should he submit his clay to fire, ....
The hour late, and then retire? ....
The tablet then would be proof, ....
Should he scrape it off and remain aloof? ....
....
Ah but the beauty of Semiramis....
Whose golden body she flaunts so shameless; ....
The perfect arc of her neck, ....
The symmetry of all aspects; ....
The painted almonds that are her eyes, ....
The rippling muscles of her thighs, ....
The careless silk draped on her breasts, ....
The perfect rosettes of their crests; ....
The white pearls that form her teeth, ....
The amber glow upon her cheeks, ....
Her tiny feet so perfect formed, ....
Her soft sweet hands with jewels adorned; ....
Made her King a willingly slave; ....
Their meeting, how he rues that day.....
Oh mighty King of Babylon, ....
Ruler of the Coming Dawn, ....
You chose to share your golden throne; ....
Now she wants to rule alone.....
....
The Royal Scribe lost his seat, ....
With servants he was indiscreet; ....
Yet the reed he held in his hand....
Gave him a power to command; ....
He could tell the truth of that day....
And bake it hard in potter's clay, ....
That generations yet unborn....
Could read the truth in cuneiform; ....
Here is a fragment to be found....
Of what the scribe had written down; ....
....
'It was the festival of the New Year....
The King and Priests did appear, ....
In procession, the Lamb aloft, ....
Oh fatted lamb, your life at cost; ....
The drums did beat the horns did thunder, ....
They tore the lamb by rite asunder, ....
Then the Priests seized the King....
And did to him that very thing; ....
Amid the curses and the shouts....
The Queen appeared, Semiramis came out, ....
In all her beauty, in silken dress, ....
That draped her body in a caress, ....
And proclaimed herself the sole Monarch....
And bid those disloyal to depart; ....
She held aloft their son Dammuz, ....
The guards knelt down and seemed confused; ....
For twenty years, the Regent Ruled, ....
Our Goddess Queen, so we've been schooled, ....
But Fate gives not an even hand, ....
She grew so used to command, ....
That when Dammuz arrived at age, ....
She refused to leave the stage.....
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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 25, 2013



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